


I think we’re alone now

by demonn



Series: I’ll do anything for you [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Fluffy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Just them riding at sunset, Light Angst, Mentions of vanya and the book she wrote, Reginald Hargreeves A+ parenting, also how shit she is at recorder, diego is trying to help klaus, flangst, he is not as distant as in the show, he loves his brother but their childhood was fucked, i guess it’s not just angst, that man was fucked, with a capital F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17889296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonn/pseuds/demonn
Summary: But then, surrounded by the backdrop of the sunset, Ben (probably- most definitely) in the backseat, the ghosts and the voices and the worries far away from them and their little bundle of belongings. No siblings demanding they be better, no people begging for the, to fight. Diego allowed himself to relax, to smile, because his family was right by his side and no one would be able to take them from him again.





	I think we’re alone now

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dive in the ‘Umbrella academy’ fandom via Fan fiction.
> 
> I binged the whole thing in a day, just maranoning it and it’s safe to say that I was in love. I fucking loved Diego and Ben and Klaus but the whole time my mind was just saying ‘Angst, Angst, Angst’ with a capital A on repeat.
> 
> I hope you like this, even If I think they are a little ooc (I don’t know, don’t take me by my word)
> 
> ❤️❤️❤️

“How you doing? The voices all quiet?” Diego asked, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tangled into Klaus’, too cold and too numb to even care. His hands were covered in scars, old and new, that allowed the cold to seep his in and attack his nerves, “Fuck, that’s a stupid question. The voices quieter, at least?”

“You know they’re not, babes,” Klaus whispered, “and you’re right, it is a stupid question. Even Ben agrees and Ben almost never agrees with anyone.”

Diego hummed, pulling a takeaway box of waffles out from the backseat, throwing them at Klais as they waited at the intersection. It was chilly, back there, a sign that Ben was probably sitting down there.

He hadn’t believed him at first, too grief stricken and bitter to believe what anyone said. He hadn’t been the only one though, Luther had downright been disgusted that Klaus even entertain the idea of being able to bring Ben back, to hear him, even though they all knew just how strong his powers were. Sure, they agreed they were horrible, but they never should have doubted that Klaus had been talking to Ben, especially with how close they were.

It’s been late at night and he’d been crouching in the alleyway trying to haul the too-thin man to his feet when he’d said, “Ben didn’t say getting sober would be this hard.” He’d almost dropped him, he would’ve, if something cold and chilly hadn’t ghosted across his hand, feeling too fingerlike and too humane to even be the wind. The first words had appeared on the misted over window of his car, ‘take car of him, be my body’ in Ben’s familiar, clinical print. Klaus had been sober enough to give him a hand, or at least force. Not that he ever deigned to use it, not that there was anyone to prove that Ben was there to. The rest of them (the rest of the Academy) had all left for their own futures, intent on forgetting any of them ever existed.

Diego had stuck by Klaus though, had stayed and had cared even though he vehemently denied it. They were two thirds of a group; Diego-Klaus-Ben becoming Diego-Klaus-ghostBen. It had never bothered him though (it was a lie, it had. But he’d become adept at masking his feelings) and had simply allowed Klaus to translate for him.

“Cool! Waffles! You got any-“

“No.” Diego interjected, shooting the man a quick glance to make sure he hadn’t pulled out a pill from anywhere. He didn’t know where he could even hide them, but he had to be vigilant. He was surprised he still even asked. “I’m trying to help you get sober, and part of those efforts would include me not giving you pills.”

“What about adderall? It’s barely a drug, I was taking that at the age of 10.” Klaus pouted, ripping open the small satchel of maple syrup, drizzling it over the waffles. “Isn’t that right Ben? You would sit on the floor and complain about how many pills I was taking.”

“He thought you had adhd, dad thought adderall would calm you down or something,” Diego huffed, sipping on his coffee. “Would calm you down enough for training. I’m pretty sure he was just trying to ‘boost’ your powers.”

The joke was on him though, adderall didn’t help at all, not when Klaus was still sneaking pills into his dinner and taking hits of old man Hargreeve’s cigarettes when the ghosts assured him he wasn’t looking. They’d been quiet before the mausoleum, before Five left and Ben died. Not as feral as they were afterwards, when Diego decided he needed to stop taking drugs and passing out on street corners and trying to kill himself every other night.

Klaus had protested that neither God or the devil wanted him (or any of them for the matter) but it didn’t stop him from throwing out all the razors and locking up all the rope and bleach and knives. He was worried, sue him, and as much as he made it clear he didn’t, he loved Klaus, that was his brother and he’d be damned if he’d let another one die.

“Ben says that it didn’t worry him,” klaus turned slightly. “No wait, he says it did worry him but it worried him because he was 10 and I was very clearly mixing 6 adderall pills with a drip of morphine and rum. Right, right. It was whisky.”

“This is just proving how fucked up you are little bro.” Diego whistled. “And I’m set on putting you back on the right track, getting you clean and healthy.”

“Tie me to a chair and throw me into the largest body of water you can find.”

“No. That not how I’m doing it. Tie you to a chair? Maybe. You really fucking piss mee off sometimes so I might have to gag you as well, maybe get Vanya to play the recorder for you or something.” Diego barked out a laugh, sharp and skewed as he twisted a knife through his fingers. “She’s shit at it so be prepared-“

“We’re not going down to Vanya’s house, I’m sure Ben would fuck up her house or something because of the book.”

“It was a threat I didn’t intend to follow through, little bro. I don’t hate her but I do dislike her and the report she published on us and our dead third makes it worse.”

Klaus’ mouth worked around the waffle for a second before he gulped, too taut skin shifting as the food went down his throat. “Ben says not to hate her, that it won’t make anything better.”

“I can’t believe- you know what? Never mind.” Diego turned up the radio, mind humming over the song that Klaus seemed to enjoy.

He’d found him a month ago just outside of town, his fur jacket ripped and torn and his shorts too thin for the winter weather. It had been the third time that month he’d found him shivering and cold and aching for drugs. This wasn’t how their life was meant to go, he was meant to do better outside of the academy, not worse.

So he’d scooped him up and thrown him into the back of the car. Stitched up all his wounds and cut him out of his clothes and sponged him down in a club bathroom, selling his drugs to anyone who would take them. He would feel bad about it later, would remember what police academy had taught him, but those thoughts were reserved for later, he hadn’t had time to dwell on it, not when he had had to force his spare set of clothes onto the man and pump him full of food so he didn’t die on the spot then come back to life a few minutes later.

Klaus had always been cold, mainly because of his drug addiction, though a little fault could go to the ghosts. He wished that he could kill them like he did regular people, make sure they never bothered his brother again. He didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve to be haunted by the voices of people he had not wronged. He didn’t deserve to be afraid of going through shady streets or through cemeteries or crime scenes or places with high crime rates. He didn’t deserve to have to drown himself in his own bathtub to get the voices to stop screaming.

Diego didn’t understand, his own power lay in being able to bend things he threw (useless if he hadn’t been picked up by Hargreeves, useful because he’d developed a life of crime and vigilantism) and that hadn’t kept him up at night. Hat had kept him up at night was the sound of klaus screaming in the backseat and the slow chill of ghosts trying to make their way to his brother. It hurt because he couldn’t protect him, couldn’t even start to protect him. He couldn’t face god and drive a knife through their throat; from what they had heard about them from Klaus, the bitch would be malicious enough to bring mis day upon both of their lives.

But then, surrounded by the backdrop of the sunset, Ben (probably- most definitely) in the backseat, the ghosts and the voices and the worries far away from them and their little bundle of belongings. No siblings demanding they be better, no people begging for the, to fight. Diego allowed himself to relax, to smile, because his family was right by his side and no one would be able to take them from him again.


End file.
